Three Bottles
by TriplePirouette
Summary: Tritter wants House's blood, literally. What Cuddy finds is surprising. No pairing. Technically post Que Sera Sera.


Title: Three Bottles

By: TriplePirouette

Category: Season three Post Que Sera Sera

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: They're not mine- I'm a poor and having fun... take pity...

Distribution: my site, anywhere else please ask first :)

Summary: Tritter wants House's blood, literally. What Cuddy finds is surprising. No pairing. Technically post Que Sera Sera.

Author's notes: I noticed in Season two and three that House was more about Oral fixation that ever: lollipops, mints, stirrers… House responds to placebos and he's got an oral fixation… made me think, and I came up with this little ditty after noticing in one of the episodes that he pops breath mints in the same manner that he pops vicodin.

Feedback PLEASE at: I love anything constructive! Blatant flames, however, will be disregarded and used to roast s'mores...

* * *

Cuddy stared at the sheet of paper in her hands. She'd done the tests herself, followed by Detective Tritter the entire way. House's evil policeman twin had watched her take his blood, label it, and walk it down to the lab. He'd watched them run the tests and then watched the paper print out. He was now standing in front of her, watching Cuddy's face as she read the report on House's blood tests.

Cuddy tried to keep her face straight, tried to keep the surprise from her eyes.

"Well?" It was almost disgusting how he chewed on his gum, his mouth slightly open and his face a mask of disinterest. Harassing House was one thing, but he was now harassing her and the hospital, his actions making more than just her top diagnostician's life hell, it was pulling him from his duties, making him even more grouchy, spacey and miserable to live with than normal. That made this man her least favorite man on Earth right now.

Cuddy took her time, raised her eyebrows, and scanned the report again. She'd been served with a court order to take two vials of blood, immediately, from 'suspect' Dr. Gregory House. One was sent to the state crime lab for testing, the other was to have tests, namely a full tox and drug panel, immediately at PPTH. Immediately was also her least favorite word right now.

She schooled her face to uninterested features and sealed the test results in an envelope that the detective held out. "There you are. Your test results. Is there anything else that I'm legally bound to do for you at the moment?"

"No." He chewed slowly, his beady eyes raking over her body and making her feel dirty. Even House with all of his jokes and innuendo didn't make her feel like this man did. She hated the fact that she had tried to make House apologize now. "But if you're smart you'll kick that man out of your hospital. He's nothing but trouble."

Cuddy stared the man down. "I'll take your views into consideration," she snapped. She turned and clicked the mouse on the computer behind her, printing another copy of the results. "Unless there's a legal reason not to, I'll be sure to keep these results as part of his permanent file…"

Tritter smiled. "No, go right ahead." He turned and left, a smug half smile on his face.

Cuddy grabbed her copy of the print out and scanned it again. She was free to let surprise float over her face. She needed to see House, now.

* * *

In the elevator Cuddy was thinking. She paid no attention to the people getting on and off the elevator. She even completely missed the fact that she'd passed House's floor nearly five times.

He was still popping pills every chance he got. She'd seen two, even three pills slide from vial to hand to throat over and over again. There was no change in his behavior. There was…

There were lollipops. More than usual. And the pharmacy orders seemed light on the vicodin lately, even if it was only by a little. He'd been cranky on and off, but hadn't pulled a major drug coup in months. He'd just been a bastard, like he always had been.

Cuddy shook herself from her thoughts and began to pay attention to what floor she was on.

* * *

She barged into House's office, slamming the door behind her. She threw the test results on his desk.

"Did I pass? It's always so hard to study for these things. You never know what will be on the test." He leaned back in his chair. Cuddy was surprised to actually see worry in his eyes.

"Yeah. You passed. Surprisingly. Now I know why you didn't think you needed a lawyer." She pointed to the test results. "What do you think it says?"

He picked up the folded piece of paper, doing his best Johnny Carson as he put it up to his forehead. "Low, Low, and a feather could have knocked you on your baby-bearing booty when you read this."

Cuddy shook her head and smiled, sitting across from him. "Right, right, and baby is still in your mind." She watched as he read over his blood test results. "Tell me."

"What, exactly, would you like to hear?" He put the paper down and picked up his magic eight ball.

"How you can still be popping pills like your life depended on it and yet your tox screen says you're taking maybe four a day, at most."

"Can't get rid of the habit of reaching for them, and why would I want to ruin my gruff exterior and stellar reputation?" He tossed his latest prescription bottle at her. "That whole little saline miraculously turned morphine stunt you pulled made me think a lot."

Cuddy opened the bottle of pills and shook a few onto her hand. Most of them were shiny and large. The others were similarly shaped, but dull and had the call numbers of vicodin stamped on them. "You're giving yourself placebos?"

"The Good 'n Plentys make by breath licorice fresh!" House looked at her through slotted eyes. "And technically, since I know they're in there, it's not a placebo. I'm weaning… I think. Not really sure there's a term for my particular form of detox." She eyed him and he reluctantly continued. "I started right after that little stunt. Weeks before I was shot and asked for the Ketamine."

"Why did you ask for the Ketamine?" She dumped the pills, candy and all, back into the bottle.

"Because there was still pain. And not 'in my mind' pain. Real pain. Pain that I could pin point and would repeat the same every time. Pain that shot up my sciatic nerve and into my back. I was researching. I was hopeful." House shrugged and put away the eight ball, laying his hands open on the desk in front of him. "The pain came back after the Ketamine, so I weaned myself back on the meds. Four a day, at the most."

"So you are feeding your oral fixation and at the same time letting everyone around you think you're still a druggie?"

"Yeah. Sounds about right."

"And Tritter found a ridiculous amount of pill bottles in your house because…"

"I carry three with me at all times. Plus there were practically empty bottles that I'd lost, or forgotten about. Guy was damn thorough." His eyebrows creased and Cuddy could swear that House almost looked lost for a moment. "I know I'm a jerk. But he was a jerk first."

"And he'll be a jerk last when he sees those test results." Cuddy stood to leave, then sat back down. "Why three bottles?"

"That's the one I grab when I'm actually having some pain. I pour and swallow without looking. Bottle two," he pulled another container of pills out, the label a valid, in date prescription, but there were only four pills in the bottle, "is all real for when there's real pain. A month's prescription split into a bunch of different bottles, another reason why Tritter found so many bottles. I don't carry any more than four on me at a time. I take one in the morning and one at night. Sleeping on one position all night really pisses off the scar tissue."

"And bottle three?"

He tossed her a pill bottle that was devoid of a label, but was full of tiny white ovals. "For when I need to be minty fresh." Cuddy shook her head and smiled a bit, depositing the vials back on his desk.

"What the hell made you think to do it this way?" she asked as she hung in the doorway.

"Wilson and Cameron both have this face they make when they think I've had too much. They don't know that they do it, but they both do. Wilson looks a little constipated, while Cameron just looks plain disappointed. I noticed one day while I was talking to Wilson and I popped some tic tacs that he gave me 'the look'."

"And you really don't plan on telling everyone that you've effectively quit as much as you can while you're still in chronic pain?"

"And make everyone think I'm all cuddly and nice? Not a chance in hell."

Cuddy left his office behind, and heard the tell-tale noise of his tennis ball bouncing off the wall. She was still shocked, not quite sure what to think about everything that was going on. What Cuddy did know was that Tritter wasn't done with them, not by a long shot after he saw those test results, not when he was after blood.

She would, however, give anything to see his face when someone told him that all those fancy numbers told him that House was not high beyond what any functioning chronic pain sufferer should be.


End file.
